


Hold me, but don't touch me

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [22]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic Cuddling, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25790131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Touch is a difficult subject for each of the Avengers."(...)The truth about movie night though? It started out as an excuse to not be alone after hard missions or generally lonely days.No one is able to sleep well or a lot. The aftermath of the battle, all the losses and memories weight heavily on all of them. Insomnia happens, which means that sooner or later, at least some if not all team members end up on the living room couches in front of the giant flatscreen. What’s showing depends entirely on who occupies the place first. Each and every one of them has their own tastes, or lack thereof.It might well be that somebody enters the room at 3am and there are nature documentaries, a cheesy period romance, obscure science fiction or comically bad horror movies playing. The first time Tony walks in on a zombie splatter with awful dialogue and even worse special effects, he wholeheartedly expects to find Clint holed up in the pile of blankets.(...)"*+~Part 22 of my Bad Things Happen BingoPrompt: "Touch Starved"
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701046
Comments: 18
Kudos: 69
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Hold me, but don't touch me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> so, because I love a good writing challenge, I'm now taking a part in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/  
> Please mind the tags!
> 
> I'm cross-posting this to my tumblr, https://banashee.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my twenty-second square: "Touch-Starved".
> 
> *+~
> 
> Hi everyone,  
> sorry for the delay - this one took me forever because I was very busy in real life and simply couldn't find the time or energy to write. But it is done, and my bingo is nearly done - I hope you'll enjoy ♥

****

**Hold me, but don't touch me**

Bruce is simply not used to touch. At the very least, he isn’t used to touch that is gentle and meant to soothe instead of hurt. 

The feeling of skin on skin with another human being burns sometimes, even years after his father has finally passed away. Or he waits for it to hurt, because this is what Bruce is used to. 

He might be an adult now and on his own, but some thoughts and habits are hard to get rid of. Some things are buried deep in his subconsciousness, just another part of life. 

It hits him in the guts when he least expects it, leaving him breathless and shaking. It leaves him unable to explain what is going on, and he just keeps smiling until his cheeks hurt and his eyes are watering because it’s all he knows to do. Waiting for actual physical pain is much worse and so much more stressful than avoiding touch in the first place, so that’s what he does. He avoids physical contact.

But then he meets Betty, and being with her is nice - she is a good person, caring and understanding. She doesn’t push him on the bad days, simply keeps him company until he’s ready to pick himself back up again. Her touch never hurts - it doesn’t take Bruce long at all to fall in love with her. 

The time they have together is wonderful and so is their relationship, but it doesn’t last. It can’t last.

It’s his own fault, really. If he hadn’t been arrogant enough to believe he was actually able to make this insane experiment work, the accident that changed everything never would have happened. He never would have put Betty in danger. 

He never would have had to run to protect both her and himself.

But Bruce is running, because running is what he does best. 

Soon, he feels like he’s being eaten up by loneliness. 

The time he’d had with Betty was short, way too short, but it’s been enough to show him how good touch can be. 

The feeling of her hand in his own, warm and soft and solid is what he thinks home must feel like. The tickle of her hair on his neck when she’d lean over him, by chance or to steal a quick kiss, or when she’d put her chin up on top of his messy curls and started braiding her own long hair under his chin, making it look like a very long beard that connected them. She kept giggling as he’d complained half heartedly when it interrupted his work until he couldn’t hold back the laughter for any longer.

Now, he is lying awake at night, curled up tight under a thin blanket that leaves him freezing in the chill. It doesn’t matter how warm the environment is - Bruce feels like his bones might snap in two from being frozen. 

With his arms wrapped tightly around himself in an attempt to mimic company, he stares at the ceiling until the sun goes up again. He’d doing everything he can to chase the feeling of Betty close to him - but it doesn’t do it any justice. 

Bruce learns to be alone again, and he continues like that - he’s not exactly doing well, but he’s alive. And as long he stays away from people, they’re generally safe. So is he.

That is, until Natasha Romanov corners him in Calcutta and everything changes once again. 

*~+

Time after time again, Thor catches himself as he stops reaching out to people. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to - on the contrary, but he finds that most people of Midgard are not nearly as openly affectionate with each other as they are back home in Asgard. It’s okay, he thinks, different places, different customs. He’ll just follow the lead. 

After all, he is a guest here. 

But then again, he kind of feels like a guest when he is back home in Asgard. It’s like he doesn’t really belong anywhere anymore.

Of course, there is Jane and while he loves her dearly, both of them know they can’t last forever. The time they have is wonderful and they cling onto each other, but there is always the nagging knowledge that their time together will be limited. It’s a curse, and Thor is well aware of it. Anyone he’ll grow to know and love here on earth, he will outlive for several thousand years. 

The entire lifespan of a human being is little more than the blink of an eye for him. Knowing this and being constantly reminded of it hurts. But it doesn’t lessen the love he holds for midgard and it’s people. 

Thor doesn’t like to think about it, despite knowing it deep in his bones. It is obvious, after all. 

But sometimes, he can’t help it. The thoughts and loneliness creep up on him, and he’s starting to feel restless, anxious and cold. Dwelling in sadness isn’t like him at all. Usually.

Although the longer it lasts, the more he feels like he is wilting away. Like a plant deprived of water, shriveling away with thirst from the lack of care. It sounds pretentious - but even a strong standing tree will die from a lack of water when there is none. 

When Jane and he part ways, too early and with a heavy heart, the loneliness lasts even longer. Jane leaves with sadness and determination in her eyes, and Thor understands. He wants her happy above everything else. If that means they’ll have to be apart, then so be it. It’s far from his first heartbreak, it won’t be the last.

Jane, after all, is a smart and wonderful woman and she deserves someone she can share her life with, to grow old with together, if she wishes so. Thor can’t be that person. Even in 50 years time, when Jane will see and feel it in herself, Thor wouldn’t look a day older than he does now. 

Time is a tricky thing. 

One day, everything changes because Loki is bringing doom upon earth, and with him an entire army of Chitauri. 

This fight in the end is a long and messy one. Parts of the town lay in shambles afterwards, and Thor can’t help but feeling responsible for it - Loki is his brother, after all. If only he’d been there to help him, if only - it’s no use, Thor thinks with a dark cloud in his mind.

There is fear and destruction everywhere, people are hurt, scared, grieving for loved ones and he wants to help them in any way he can. Part of Thor is grieving with them, despite standing strong and proud. 

Apart from this, Thor finds himself with a remarkable group of people around him after all of it. 

They fight side by side and share a meal after - there is nothing more required for Thor to consider them brothers and sister in arms.

*~+

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat more often than not ever since he came out of the ice. It drenches his clothes and makes his hair stick uncomfortably against his head. He knows he should be hot, but in truth, he feels like he’s still frozen. It doesn’t matter how hot the room is around him - he’s always cold. 

In the dead of night or early in the morning, he’ll startle awake with a choked off sound, gasping for air and absolutely drenched. He’ll force himself to calm his breathing, to stop his hands from shaking. Thankfully, no one is around to see him like that. He is especially glad in those nights where he’ll scream Bucky’s name in his sleep, again and again until his voice has turned rough and scratchy and finally suffocates into a small whisper, almost drowned out by damp bedsheets and hands clasped over his face.

He stops sleeping as much as he can - he doesn’t need it, he keeps telling himself. But even with the serum running through his veins, despite all the perks and enchantments, he is still very much human.

Steve starts spending his nights either in a SHIELD training room, beating the stuffing out of countless sandbags, or he drives around on his motorcycle. He drives aimlessly and utterly lost in a world he no longer recognizes. 

It’s still New York and he should know his way around here while being asleep - but things have changed. Streets and buildings he used to know look foreigen now. People are so much more distant, occupied with their own, busy lives. Most of them don’t look left or right from themselves, and Steve stops himself from reaching out, stops himself from holding them up in their constant hurry just to chat - he knows it would be rude. 

Truth be told, Steve has never been this lonely before. Even after Bucky fell from the train, He’d still had Peggy and the other men in his unit by his side. 

Now, he’s outlived them all, apart from Peggy who is old and sick and doesn’t recognize him half the time. After he visits her for the first time, he feels like crying the entire way home but manages to keep it together until he’s locked the door of his small quarters back at base. But once he’s back there, he’s hit with grief and loneliness. 

Steve doesn’t sleep that night - he spends hours in the training room once again, but this time he can’t shake off the faces of those he loves and lost.

More than anyone else, he misses Bucky. 

He can’t even remember a time without his best friend - first love. Both statements are accurate. 

They’ve spent so much time together, and it hurts. It hurts not being able to talk about anything and everything in the world. It hurts not being able to see Bucky ever again, but most of all it hurts to never be able to touch him again. 

This, of all things, is what causes Steve the most distress and leaves him empty, cold and shivering at night, unable to find rest. 

Sometimes, he wishes he could have somebody close to him. Just another human being to hold, to be able to touch. But he doesn’t have anyone - not anymore.

Peggy holds his hand sometimes when he visits her, but her dementia is bad, and she’ll get confused as to what year it is. Sometimes, she knows that it’s 2012, and she’s torn between happiness to see Steve and being mad that it took him so long to come see her again. Other days, she’ll think it’s 1943 again. 

One night, Steve’s usual round on the punching bags is interrupted by Director Fury. 

He’s got a new mission, and he doesn’t know yet that it will change his life once again. 

*~+

Tony has never been great at being close to people. If he’s being honest, which he often is, to the point of being too bold and too rude, he’ll admit that he can’t stand being close to most people anyway. 

They invade his personal space and they paw at him without asking because being Tony Stark apparently means being some kind of circus attraction. It doesn’t take long for him to grow a spiked armor of snarkiness and arrogance, and by the time he’s a teenager, his defence walls are built high up. Those walls only solidify as he ages, and when he’s hit his 20’s, being loud, rude and obnoxious to deflect from himself has become second nature.

There has always been only a small circle of people he allowed close to him, a small circle of people who know better - who know _him_ better. 

But when his parents, Ana and Edwin Jarvis have all died over the years, this circle shrinks rapidly. Especially Mom and the Jarvis couple being gone hurts. He’s always been close to them, and when Ana died, it didn’t take very long for Edwin to follow her. Until then, Tony had always thought that the phrase “dying from a broken heart” was a bit dramatic, but now he knows better. 

Losing his mother so suddenly and uselessly is probably the worst of it all. 

He misses the company of his loved ones. The conversations, the familiar touch of gentle hands and heartfelt hugs. The feeling of home.

Sleeping around helps the feeling of being touch-starved at least for a little while. But he can’t help but notice that being hugged once by a friend is way more healing than hooking up with three different people in a row. Go figure. 

One day, Tony wakes up in a cave in Afghanistan, with a hole on his chest and a car battery attached to it. It’s like a nightmare come to life, and he’s got no choice but to deal with it. He survives though, and ends up guarding himself even better. 

His circle keeps shrinking after this. 

Tony has always been cautious of people, and even more so now. He is proven right when Obadiah turns out to be a selfish creep who betrays his trust. The cold voice, the laugh when he’d ripped his ARC reactor out of his chest - it keeps him up at night, even years after the fact. 

It’s a whole new can of worms that he really doesn’t want to open - touch has gotten even more difficult for him these days. He’s craving it, but he knows it’ll make his skin crawl when the “wrong” person is touching him. It’s not always logical. 

At least, Obadiah is dead and gone, no longer able to hurt anyone. It still stings, finding out that a man who saw him grow up, someone he considered family wanted nothing but what he could give him to gain more power. 

After all of it, there are three people who are left close to him. Rhodey, Pepper, Happy. Tony lives his life mostly guarding himself, unless he is around his special group of people. He trusts them, no matter what, but sometimes, he still gets lonely.

Four years after his trip to hell, Tony is sitting in a half destroyed Shawarma restaurant. He is dirty, exhausted and barely tasting the food that he is eating. 

Tony is surrounded by 5 people, all of them just as worn out as he is. They are mostly strangers to him, and yet there is a connection after their battle against aliens. It’s there, and it’s clear, like a light in the darkness. 

Maybe it’s the fatigue talking, maybe he’s hit his head. But maybe, just maybe he is completely clear when he offers them all a place to crash.

He did hit his head, but Tony still never regrets making this offer. Truth be told, it’s one of the best things he’s ever done.

*~+

Natasha simply isn’t used to any kind of physical affection for most of her life. 

She is the Black Widow, and she’s using touch to seduce and kill - it’s part of the job, nothing more. While growing up in the Red Room, touch is being used for training purposes - violence to learn how to fight and kill. Tiny bits of affection and praise for a job well done, but it’s never personal. It’s been burned into her brain, and she keeps telling herself this even when she’s left and is on her own. 

Natasha is so used to solitude that part of her, however small, is scared of being touched. It always means something and she can’t allow herself to enjoy the warm feeling of a warm body next to her, can’t lean into tiny touches without analysing everything. It is easier to avoid it altogether.

Living without any emotional connections is what she was trained for all her life, after all. Nevermind the fact that she is on the run from the Red Room these days, for more than one good reason, but old habits die hard. 

So she runs and runs, over the years and all over the word, and there are ice crystals growing on her insides. On the rare occasion that there is someone trying to get close, she snaps and snarls at them until they leave. It leaves her hurting and irritated, and she swears to herself that she will get a grip on it. 

Of course, it doesn’t work forever. 

The years on the run have hardened her, and Natasha has lost count of how much blood is staining her hands at this point. The desire to make up for it is growing, but she doesn’t even know how to start. So she continues to do what she knows.

Listless and lost, Natasha is scurrying over the rooftops of Budapest, well aware that she is no longer alone. If it wasn’t for her training and instincts, she would not have noticed the man following her. He knows how to move as silent as a shadow, and chances are, if you’re not moving in just the same way, you’ll never know he’s even there.

What starts out as a cat and mouse game over several days, ends one night when he confronts her on one of the highest points of the city. 

Natasha knows he’ll come, and she finds herself not caring that she might find an early end with an arrow in her throat. It’ll be cold but quick, and she’s beyond exhausted. If it happens now, she won’t mind. 

But the sharp pain never comes.

Instead, the man holds his weapon loosely by his side, watching her with curiosity as he approaches.

“Aren’t you bored of this? I know I am. You might as well just ask me to shoot you.”

The statement is blunt, and would incredibly insulting if it wasn’t true., Despite it all, despite the stress and exhaustion of the last few years, Natasha finds herself cracking the ghost of a smile. If nothing else, this will be entertaining. But as it is, this is the start of her new life.

“Blunt” and “insulting” pretty much sums up who Clint Barton is, she thinks a few hours later when she sits beside him on a SHIELD plane. He talks too much and has the tendency to irritate her to no end, but Natasha can’t deny that this is the most alive she’s felt in a long time. There is also no denying that he just helped her take the first step on her way to wipe out her ledger. It’s a lot of work, and she isn’t sure it’s something she can manage in a single life time, but she will do her damned best to try.

With this strange man by her side, flipping through a battered paperback book with one hand and chewing on some kind of long gummy candy at the same time, she thinks it might not be half bad. Natasha pretends not to make anything of the fact that he has no problem turning away from her, doing his own thing instead of watching her every move in an attempt to stop her from murdering him in cold blood. 

This is trust, she realizes later, much later, and the two of them have grown to be one of the agencies best teams. Whether or not it is deserved is frequently discussed in the hallways and behind closed doors, but it doesn’t change anything. 

Many years down the road, and Natasha can’t imagine a life without Clint, and in addition, Phil by her side. She may or may not have added on to her first impression she’s had of the man who is now best friend, but she’ll claim that nothing changed in over a decade if he annoys her too much.

It only makes him laugh tho, and there is so much warmth to it, almost as much as when they share a space on days off, a bed on missions, or when Clint hugs her for no apparent reason (or maybe because he is totally a cuddler once he’s comfortable enough with someone). 

Natasha has never felt so warm in her entire life - touch becomes a part of it, and she finds that she doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, she seeks it out, knowing there is no ill play, nothing to fear. At least, there isn’t when it comes to her friends. 

The years go on, and one day, her life changes forever once again. Natasha is on a mission in Russia when the call comes, and she is annoyed at the interruption at first, but it only lasts as long as it takes Phil Coulson to inform her that Clint has been compromised.

The next week flies over in what feels like the blink of an eye and five years all at once. Natasha is exhausted, both in a physical and in an emotional sense, and she slumps in her chair in the fast food restaurant that she’s crammed into. Next to her is Clint, unusually silent and worse for wear, but at least he is alive and still here. 

Both of them are mourning for Phil, as well as countless Agents and civilians. Life is a mess and it’ll take a while to figure it all out - but they have each other at least. 

When everything is said and done that day, Natasha finds herself collapsing into a bed that isn’t hers, but it is soft and comfortable. The place is secure, or at least, as secure as it can be under the current circumstances. 

She’s curled up tightly around Clint, and she might be clinging to him - just a little bit. He’s out like a light, unaware of her deathgrip on him. Even if he wasn’t, she knows he’d never say anything, let alone take this comfort away from her. They’ve been through too much together. All there is left are deep trust, an unconditional friendship and the knowledge that there is love and support out there, no matter what. 

When they wake up the next day, they do so to the sound of JARVIS’ friendly voice informing them there will be breakfast shortly. 

It’s just the start of an entirely new life.

*~+

Clint spends most of his life being afraid of touch and craving for it at the same time.

The first years of his life are a blur of yelling, pain, broken bottles and hands that are trying to soothe the hurt, and it stays. Touch means pain, is what he learns from his father. Gentle touch happens after pain, he learns from his mother.

So the logical thing would be to avoid touch altogether - he learns that early on, too. As the years go on, he learns to suppress the flinch when people reach out, stepping away whenever he can. Some people catch on to that. They either retreat, looking uncomfortable and apologetic. Others look smug, and try again and again- to them, it’s simply a fun thing to do to pass time, and Clint finds himself constantly on the edge. 

There is a sadness in his mothers eyes, when she reaches out to smooth down his messy mop of hair, or to run a gentle hand over his cheek - because Dad isn’t here, he can’t yell at her now for making the boys “too soft” - and Clint flinches away from her, just out of sheer habit. 

That night, he can hear her crying in the other room, and guilt is eating him up from the inside.

After Mom and Dad have the car accident and die, people don’t touch him or Barney unless they want something. He’d be fine with the no-touch part, at least he thinks so. But despite being afraid, he just wishes for some gentle touch, a hand to hold or a little hug - anything, really. Barney doesn’t do affection though, and Clint won’t ask. He knows he’d be dismissed or worse, laughed at. That would hurt more than the cold feeling of loss in his chest.

It gets worse when the adults want something, tho. They’ll suddenly turn to touch and affection that is so incredibly fake when they want him to do things - what things widely depends on the person, but he resents it all while keeping a straight face and forcing a smile. 

The Swordsman and Trickshot are just as bad as Dad used to be. Interacting with them, or rather, having to interact with them is painful and scary. But it’s not nearly as terrifying as the unknown. At least, with them, Clint knows what to expect:

He’ll do a good job, and he’ll get a acknowledging clap on the shoulder. If he fucks up, he’ll feel it for the rest of the week. It’s not a hard concept per se, but it doesn’t help his strained relationship with touch at all. 

Later on, when he’s doing messy jobs of all kinds, he alternates between wanting to scrub his skin off with bleach and and simply being close to someone without any motives. He’s going without physical contact for most of his life, and that lasts until after Agent Phil Coulson drags him out of a shithole somewhere in the middle of nowhere and offers him a job, a safe place and a new life. His handshake is warm, dry and firm in a way that’s reassuring without trying to crush his hand. 

Clint doesn’t know him, but it’s easy to trust him right then. Not many people can claim that, and Phil remains special to him for the rest of his life. He is the first person to offer physical contact without any intentions. Only reassurance, comfort and, later on, casual friendly touches for no reason at all. 

Clint doesn’t expect it the first time he gets a hug from Phil, stiffening up in surprise, just for a second, but then he clings on for dear life. 

Something changes after that - while Clint is quick to threaten and occasionally inflict physical harm to people who won’t keep their hands to themselves after they’ve been warned, he finds himself growing more comfortable with touch and affection. From some people, like Phil and later on Natasha, he even seeks it out on his own terms. 

The cold, empty hole in his chest seems to be closing up over the years. Clint is genuinely happy for the first time in way too long, and he’s growing used to having people around him and being comfortable with it. 

But then, he is assigned on base in New Mexico and a demigod with a glowing spear scrambles his brain and makes him his puppet. Clint spends about a week under his control, and when Natasha knocks him out to get him back to himself, the world he knows and loves is about to end. 

It has already ended because Phil died. He goes completely numb after that, but he fights and walks and talks and does whatever he needs to be doing, only to pass out in a strange bed that night. Natasha doesn’t leave his side, and while he is falling asleep, he can feel her pressing just a little closer to him. He wants to say something, tell her that it’s okay, they’ll figure this out - he doesn’t believe it, but the urge is there. 

Clint falls asleep before he can do anything though, and his dreams leave him restless for the remainder of the night, 

When Clint wakes up again, he couldn’t say what time of day it is. He is curled around Natasha and feeling like complete and utter shit despite having been asleep for a long time. 

With a low, unhappy noise he buries his face in her messy red curls, attempting to go back to sleep, but it’s useless. Clint has slept way more than usual, but he might as well have been awake the entire time. He doesn’t know what to do or how to move on. 

Natasha seems just as reluctant to get up as he is. Normally, she’d have squirmed away to shower and go get breakfast, kicking him out of bed somewhere in between because she can be impatient when craving food, but right now, she just tightens her grip around his waist and sighs deeply. 

Only when JARVIS starts talking to them, announcing the date and informs them that there will be breakfast down in the communal kitchen soon, they peel themselves out of the sheets. 

The breakfast tastes like ash in his mouth, but Clint lies and says it’s good, and it seems to make Natasha happy at least. He’s not sure if she believes him, but sometimes, the effort is enough. 

Just like last night, they are surrounded by the team, but unlike then, no one wears any kind of armor or protective gear. Everyone sits around the table in T-shirts and sweatpants, even Thor, who seems to have borrowed clothes from Steve. 

Mjölnir hangs on a hook in the wall, right by the door next to a tea towel. It looks comedic, but they realize that it is meant to be a polite gesture - leaving the weapon by the door, out of reach. A peaceful gesture to signal that Thor does not mean to threaten. Nobody comments on it.

They’re all exhausted, and neither is in the mood to talk very much. But something is in the air, and despite the world having changed, all of them can tell that something else is about to change. None of them is used to being close to many people, but right in this moment, with all six of them at the breakfast table, it’s like something is falling into place

*~+

Movie night is a thing, because apparently, Stark Tower in Manhattan has been turned into a superhero frat house ever since the battle. 

Phrasing it like that sounds negative when it really isn’t, but Tony jokes about it one day, sitting on the kitchen counter and deliberately putting his ass down right where Steve was meaning to chop the vegetables for dinner. The captain just looks at him with one raised eyebrow as Tony shrugs and pulls a bag of freeze dried snacks from the inside pocket of his jacket - he chews while looking Steve dead in the eyes, waiting for a reaction. 

With a sigh, Steve moves to the side to get to work. 

“Frat House?” he asks with a small huff of laughter and without even looking up. The onions won’t chop themselves, and somehow, he seems to have gotten immune to the irritating onion juices that usually make your eyes water. Steve doesn’t mind taking over the task, and the others will happily do other chores while preparing dinner. As it turns out, “getting in the way” is one of those tasks in this household, and Tony does it on a regular basis. He makes up for it with pretty good waffles, coffee, and, you know, inviting them all to live here.

“What? It’s true.” he shrugs and stuffs another handful of blueberries in his face. 

“I’m not sure that’s the phrase I would be using, but whatever makes you happy.”

“I’d use that phrase. It’s accurate.” a dry voice from the doorway chimes in. Natasha enters the room, making a beeline for the counter. 

“Move it, Stark. You’re blocking the coffee machine.” 

He does move - Tony might be annoying sometimes, but he certainly isn’t foolish. Tempting the Black Widow to cold blooded murder due to that right before dinner just ruins the night for everyone, really.

The truth about movie night though? It started out as an excuse to not be alone after hard missions or generally lonely days. 

No one is able to sleep well or a lot. The aftermath of the battle, all the losses and memories weight heavily on all of them. Insomnia happens, which means that sooner or later, at least some if not all team members end up on the living room couches in front of the giant flatscreen. What’s showing depends entirely on who occupies the place first. Each and every one of them has their own tastes, or lack thereof. 

It might well be that somebody enters the room at 3am and there are nature documentaries, a cheesy period romance, obscure science fiction or comically bad horror movies playing. The first time Tony walks in on a zombie splatter with awful dialogue and even worse special effects, he wholeheartedly expects to find Clint holed up in the pile of blankets. He does a double take when he finds Bruce instead. 

“Hey. Didn’t take you for one to like Horror.” he greets, and is met with tired dark eyes and a few beats of silence.

“I don’t.” Bruce says, sounding just as rough as he looks. “It’s incredibly stupid, but that’s kinda the point. Stops me from thinking.” he adds after a small shrug.

Tony just hums in response, because he can get behind that. He loves the inaccurate, outlandish SciFi stuff for the very same reason, after all. Nothing to think about, just something to poke fun at or complain about. And for once it’s nothing life-changing or traumatizing. Just a bad movie. 

Without another word, he joins Bruce on the couch, who makes space for him and hands over one of the many blankets he’d piled on top of himself. 

But this is how it starts out. Again and again, they meet up by chance.

Movie night is made a “thing” after a particularly bad mission when nobody wants to be alone after. They order pizza and shuffle off in different directions to shower, but they meet up again just in time for the food to arrive. They eat because they’re hungry, nothing more. 

Lord of the Rings is flickering across the screen, and it keeps them all occupied. Neither Steve or Thor know the movies yet, so they watch in quiet wonder while the others lean back to enjoy a movie series they’ve seen multiple times already. One by one, they nod off on the spacious furniture, slumping against each other.

They wake up hours later in what can only be described as one giant pile of limbs. 

Steve is snoring, one arm firmly clasped around Tony’s waist and, to his great embarrassment, drooling a little bit onto his shoulder. Tony doesn’t seem to mind, if the way he waves off Steve’s spluttering apology as he wipes a sleeve across his face is any indication. In fact, he tells him to shut up and simply snuggles closer before falling right back asleep. He can’t move his legs, because Clint is using them as a pillow. He’s fast asleep, uncaring for the conversation next to him. Sprawled on his back is Natasha, happily providing her job as a human blanket. On the other couch, Thor is snoring like, well, thunder. He is asleep like a log and slightly squashed under him, Bruce is having the first night of good sleep in who even knows how long. The position he’s in should be, by any means, concerning but he likes the weight on top of him. Thor is safe, he knows. The team is safe. It’s enough to get him to relax and sleep through the night.

It is strange, it is new. But it feels good to be close to people, and they’ll take what they can get. This team is a wonderful thing, and despite butting heads and disagreements, they know there will always be a place to come home to.

Home. This is kind of a new concept to most of them, too.

Thundering footsteps from the kitchen rush to the living room as Tony and Clint race for the good armchair spot, pulling and shoving each other like the perfectly well adjusted adults that they are. Clint is faster - he throws himself onto the chair hard enough for it to shoot back a few feet over the floor. Tony, refusing to give up and physically unable to stop at this point, jumps right after him, squarely landing on the archers lap, raising both arms over his head in mock-victory. Secretly, he is more than a little proud that Clint is letting him get away with doing that. Most people probably would have found arrows in unpleasant places, or at the very least, found themselves kicked to the floor in a matter of seconds. Not Tony though. 

“I’m not getting up.” Clint informs him, and Tony shrugs, completely unconcerned.

“Me neither.”

A snort comes from the couch, where Natasha is propped up against Steve and her feet in Thor’s lap. Her ankles are crossed with Bruce, who has occupied the other side next to Thor. Right now, he’s busy laughing into his mug of coffee. 

Once they’re done laughing and arguing, everyone has settled down. 

True to their words, neither Clint or Tony moves, and so they end up crammed together into the chair. Being the restless person that he is, Tony always needs something to fidget with, something to keep his hands occupied. Oftentimes, he doesn’t even realize what he is doing, as is the case right now. He keeps running gentle fingers over the archers forearms, tracing invisible patterns. The motion is soothing and repetitive, and Tony only catches onto it when Clint lets out a content little sigh, head resting on his shoulder and about to fall asleep right on the spot.

The room is quiet now, safe for the movie. There are small touches they share in the half dark room. Just something to acknowledge their company, something to let each other known that this is home, that this is safe. It is still new, and so very very precious.

They might have wildly different lives, different backgrounds. But when it comes down to it, every single one of them knows the freezing cold pain of loneliness. They have lived with it for most of their lives, but it slowly melts away. 

It melts away, just a little more every single day. 

  
  
  
  


*+~

Square: "Touch-Starved"

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> \- non-graphic violence  
> \- non-graphic (past) child abuse  
> \- touch starvation  
> \- loneliness  
> \- dealing with trauma  
> \- PTSD / Mental health issues  
> \- Off-Screen character death


End file.
